Shattered Identity
by TudorRose1530
Summary: Yara takes Theon from the Dreadfort, but is he Theon?


making pulped mince of the Islander's face.

"No!" Her brother yelled again, pleading, as he tried to pull himself from her grasp. "Let me go!"

"Stop it! Theon!" She yelled, suppressing a pained groan as her brother tried again to pull free, his slender, boney fingers now clawing at her arm. Her grip on him tightened, holding him closer as she and her surviving men stood face to face with the man who had done this to her brother, reducing him to this cowering, animalistic creature.

"I have to say," the Bastard spoke, "you've got bigger balls than he ever did." He pointed the dagger at her brother who had finally ceased his struggles the minute the other man spoke. He slipped the dagger back into his belt. "But with those...big balls of yours," he produced a long key and she knew what was coming.

"How fast can you run?" He asked, smiling manically as he began unlocking the cages.

"Go!" Yara ordered her men, tugging her brother in time with the clanging bolt, pulling him forcefully as she turned on her heel, ignoring his startled yelp, aiming to make as much distance between them and the beasts as possible. The blood rushing in her ears, she tried to drown out the screams of those who weren't quick enough to escape the hounds.

It was a miracle they made it to the stretch of shore just beyond the fort where the boats still waited along with those assigned to remain with them.

"Make for the ship! Now!" She ordered, pushing her brother into the boat before pushing it out to sea. He scrambled to distance himself as she climbed into the boat along with the rest of her surviving men. He sank down even lower, wrapping his arms around himself the best he could in a futile attempt to conserve warmth in what little rags he wore. Noticing him shivering, she reached out, "Theon." He jerked from her touch as though scalded. He shook his head; dirty, matted hair covering his eyes. Sighing, she knew she would get nowhere with her brother tonight. Still able to hear the echoing of the hounds in the darkness of the shoreline, she knew the further away they got from that place, the better.

He was asleep by the time they made it to the ship, slumped on his side with his head nestled into his chest, arms tucked into themselves. He looked peaceful when he slept, his thin chest rising and falling slowly, emitting a slight rattle. When they found him, he'd been locked in a filthy kennel like a dog. How anyone could-

"Captain!" Erik, her first mate nudged her shoulder, snapping her from her thoughts. Looking up, The Black Wind met her eyes and she smiled. She had sailed her for many years, though raids and battle and never once had she failed her. Now she would take them home. Ladders descended over the ship's port, the men aboard relieved to see their captain returned.

Glancing at her brother, she found him still asleep. She reached forward, taking him by the shoulders in an attempt to sit him up. He groaned, head lolling to the side."I'll take him, captain." Erik prompted, moving her aside. With one heft, he lifted the younger man over his shoulder as though he weighed nothing. He was virtually skin and bone.

Boarding the ship, they were not met with the usual sounds of laughter, cheering or boasting after a raid or pillage. Instead, the ship was in silence.

"Erik," she spoke, her voice low as she turned to face her second in command, "bring my brother below deck. Watch him." The larger man gave a curt nod, "aye, captain." Shifting the younger man's weight over his shoulder, he descended below deck.

Alone with her crew, she addressed them. "I won't lie to you," she began, her eyes gliding over a small sea of perplexed, hardened faces. She stood fast, gazed fixed, as if searching their eyes for her answer. "The task I've asked of you is a thankless one. Our King, my father, saw it fit to abandon my brother, your prince, to both torment and death at the bloodied hands of house Bolton and their pet bastard."

She felt tense as she continued, as though she had heavy stones fixed to her shoulders. "My brother was foolish, choosing to go deep into enemy territory, right within the grasping palm of those Northern cunts. He may be a fool, but he is still your prince and he is still my brother. I could not discard him so easily as father did."

"We took him back, didn't we?" Asked a young man, the first of their ranks to speak. "That's the matter of it. The more of those bastards we feed the earth with, the better."

"It was a hard fight." Yara countered. "We weren't expecting such a fierce attack. We were lucky to come away from it with the numbers we did."

Yara felt her own blood chill as an older crewman pushed his way through the crowd, a build man, his hard face heavily lined with age, the black of his beard starting to pepper. "Captain." The older man said, looking among the forlorn faces of those who returned. "Cerwyn was with you, you took him inland with you."

"He fought well, Sedrich. I daresay he put the fear of the gods in the Northmen."

Her heart sank as she watched Sedrich's face fall, the desperate confusion in his eyes. "Where is he?" He asked, just short of pleading. "My Cerwyn. Captain, where is my boy?"

The men who had made it back for their raid bowed their heads low, their eyes to the deck of the ship. One of the crewmen placed a calloused hand on Sedrich's shoulder. "Captain?"

"We head for home with our prince, tonight. That's one thing they can't take away from us." She said to her crew, her eyes meeting Sedrich's, something deep within her screaming that she were facing an army instead, wishing that she could face that bastard again instead of looking into this man's defeated, welling eyes. "I'm sorry, Sedrich."

The crew stood for a moment, almost unsure of what to do before they began to make their way back to their stations. Only Sedrich remained, his eyes almost piercing her soul. One of the crewmen took the man by his shoulders, gently steering him back to his post as his tears flowed freely. She turned quickly, fighting the urge to run back to her cabin.

Far from the eyes of her men, she buried her face in her hands where no one would see her own tears."Stop it," she hissed to herself, voice broken, fiercely wiping her cheeks. She was Ironborn. A warrior. She was Yara Greyjoy, daughter of Balon Greyjoy. She was not weak. Her men needed her to be strong, to lead. Theon needed his sister. She couldn't fail them now.


End file.
